beyond the mountains; and that he sometimes crossed, searching forstray cattle. That is the history of my sketch, and since I amindebted to you for its recovery, I regret for your sake that it isso meagre."

"It was last August that you made the sketch?"

"Last August. And now may I ask, to whom my thanks are due?"

"I am merely an humble member of a sisterhood of working women, andmy name could possess no interest for you. I owe you an apology fortrespassing upon your time, and prying into the mysteries of yourportfolio; but the beauty of your sketch, and its startlingresemblance to one in whom I have long felt an interest, must pleadmy pardon. I am grateful, sir, for your courtesy, and will detainyou no longer."

He bowed profoundly; she bent her head, and walked quickly away,keeping her face lowered, dreading observation.

For the first time since her trial and conviction, a sensation ofperfect tranquillity shed rest upon her anxious and forebodingheart. Bertie was safe from capture, on foreign soil; and thetestimony of the traveller that he prayed in the solitude of thewilderness, brought her the comforting assurance, that the fires ofremorse had begun the purification of his sinful soul from the crimethat had blackened so many lives. Trained in his early youth at aJesuit College, his sympathies had ever been with the priesthood towhom his tutors belonged; and his sister readily understood howswiftly he fled to their penitential, expiatory system, when theblood of his grandfather had stained his hands, and the scouts ofthe law hunted him to desert wilds.

Vain of the personal beauty that had always distinguished him, shecomprehended the keenness of the humiliation, which would goad himto screen in a cloister, the facial mutilation, that punished himmore excruciatingly than hair shirt, or flagellation. Beyond thereach of extradition (as she fondly hoped), inviolate beneath thecowl of some Order which, in protecting his body, essayed also tocleanse, regenerate and sanctify his imperilled soul, could she notnow dismiss the tormenting apprehension that sleeping or waking hadpersistently dogged her, since the day when she saw the fuchsias onthe handkerchief, and the mother-of-pearl grapes on the sleevebutton, in the penitentiary cell?

In a crisis of dire extremity, overborne by adversity, terrified bythe realization of human helplessness, we fly to God, and barter bypromise all our future, for the boon of temporary succor.

How different, how holy the mood that brings us in tearful gratitudeto dedicate our lives to His service, when having abandoned allhope, His healing hand lifts us out of long agony into unexpectedrest?

When an ignominious death stared this woman in the face, she hadcried to her God: "Though You slay me, yet will I trust You!" andto-night she bowed her head in prayer, thankful that the upliftedhand held no longer a dagger, but had fallen tenderly inbenediction.

Far away in the heart of the city, the clock in its granite towerwas striking two; yet Beryl knelt at her oriel window, with her armscrossed on the wide sill, and her eyes fixed upon the shimmeringsea, where a soft south wind ruffled it into ridges of silver,beneath a full May moon. Beyond those silent waters, hidden in somelonely, snow-girt eyry, where perhaps the muffled thunder of thePacific responded to the midnight chants of his oratory, dweltBertie; and to touch his hand once more, to hear from his own lipsthat he had made his peace with God, to kiss him good-bye seemed allthat was left for accomplishment.

Poor and unknown, she lacked apparently every means requisite forthis attainment; but faith, patience, and courage were hers. Dailywork for daily wage was the present duty; and in God's good time shewould find her brother. How, or when, so expensive and difficult aquest could be successfully prosecuted, disquieted her not; she hadlearned to labor and to trust; she remembered: "Their strength is tosit still."

The symphony of her life was set in minors, yet subtle and perfectwas the harmony that dwelt therein; and because she had sternly shutlove out of her lonely heart, she kept votive lights burningceaselessly on the cold altar of duty. The solitary red rose ofhappiness that might have brightened and perfumed her thorny path,she had cut off, ere the bud expanded, and offered it as a loyaltribute to broaden the garland that crowned Miss Gordon. At themandate of conscience, she had unmurmuringly surrendered thisprecious blossom, but memory was tantalizingly tenacious; and insorrowful hours of sore temptation, the brave, pure soul cameswiftly to the rescue of famishing heart: "What? Is it so hard forus to keep the Ten Commandments? Do we covet our neighbor's lover?"

In the garden of earthly existence, some are ordained to bloom ashuman plantae tristes, shedding their delicate aroma like the"Pretty-by-nights", only when the glory of the day is done, andtwilight shadows coax open their pure hearts.

To-night she seemed cradled in the arms of peace, soothed by anunfaltering trust that whispered:

"Would I could wish my wishes all to rest; And know to wish the wish, that were the best."

While her lips moved in a prayer for Bertie, she fell asleep; like achild at ease, after long paroxysms of pain. When she awoke, thelilacs were swinging their purple thuribles filled with dew, inhonor of the new day; a silvery mist, tinged here and there with thepale pink hue of an almond blossom, wavered and curled over thequiet lake, and a robin red-breast, winging his way from the orangeand jasmine boughs of the far sweet South, rested on the ivied wall,and poured out his happy heart in a salutatory to the rising sun.

CHAPTER XXXII.

"I fear, my sister, that you have made a great mistake in refusingan offer of marriage, which almost any woman might be proud toaccept."

Sister Ruth closed her writing desk, and looked at Beryl over herspectacles.

"Why should you infer that any such proposal has been made to me?"

"Simply because I know all that has occurred, and my cousin writesme that you decline to marry him. If you had intended to remain hereand identify yourself with this institution, I could betterunderstand your motives in rejecting a man who offers you wealth,good looks, a stainless reputation, an honored name, and the bestpossible social position."

"All of which tempt me in no degree. Mr. Brompton is doubtlesseverything you consider him; lives in a brown stone palace, is aninfluential and respected citizen, but comparatively, we arestrangers. He bought my pictures, took a fleeting fancy to my face,and to my great surprise, indulged in a romantic whim. What does hecomprehend of my past? How little he understands the barrier thatshuts me out from the lot of most women."

"He is fully acquainted with every detail of your life that has beenconfided to me, or discovered by the public; and he has studied andadmired you ever since you came to dwell among us. In view of yourvery peculiar history, you must admit that his affection iscertainly strong. If you married him, your past would be effectuallyblotted out."

"I have no desire to blot it out, and though misfortune overshadowedmy name, it is the untarnished legacy my father left me, and I holdit very sacred; wrap it as a mantle about me. When suspicion of anyform of disgrace falls upon a woman, it is as though some delicateflower had been thrust too close to a scorching fire; and no matterhow quickly or how far removed, no matter how heavy the dews thatempearl it, how fresh and cool the wind that sweeps over it, howbright the sun that feeds its pulses,--the curled petals are neversmoothed, the hot blasts leaves its ineffaceable blight. To me, thethought of marriage comes no more than to one who knows death sitswaiting only for the setting of the sun, to claim his own. Thatphase of life is as inaccessible and uninviting to me, as Antarticcircumpolar lands; and even in thought, I have no temptation toexplore it. My future and my past are so interblended, that I couldas easily tear out my heart and continue to breathe, as attempt toseparate them. I have a certain work to do, and its accomplishmentbars all other paths."

"Does the nature of that work involve vows of celibacy?"

"Sometimes fate decrees for us, allowing no voluntary vows. How soonthe path to my work will open before me, I cannot tell; but the daymust come, and like a pilgrim girded, I wait and watch."

"Can you find elsewhere a nobler field of work than surrounds youhere?"

"Certainly not, and some dross of selfishness mingles with themotives that will ultimately bear me beyond these hallowingprecincts; yet a day may come, when having fulfilled a sacred duty,I shall travel back, praying you to let me live, and work, and dieamong you."

"My sister, your patient submission, your tireless application, haveendeared you to me; and I should grieve to lose you from our littlegray band, where your artistic labors have reflected so much crediton the 'Home'."

"Thank you, Sister Ruth; praise from fellow toilers is praiseindeed, and the greatest blessing one human being can bestow uponanother, I owe to you; the blessing of being helped to procure work,which enables me to help myself. If I leave the 'Anchorage' for aseason, it will be on an errand such as Noah's dove went forth fromrefuge to perform; and when I return with my olive branch, thedeluge of my life will have spent its fury, and I shall rest inpeace where the ark is anchored."

"Do you imagine that desertion from our ranks will be so readilycondoned? Drum-head court martial obtains here."

"Would you call it desertion, if seizing the flag of duty thatfloats over us here, I forsook the camp only long enough to scout ona dangerous outpost, to fight single-handed a desperate battle! If Ifell, the folds of our banner would shroud me; if I conquered, wouldyou not all greet me, when weary and worn I dragged myself back tothe ranks? Some day, when I tap at the ark window, you will openyour arms and take me in; for then my earthly mission will haveended, and the smoke of the accepted sacrifice will linger in mygarments."

"Meantime, to-day's duties demand attention. I have a note fromCyril Brompton requesting that special courtesy be shown by us tohis friend, the new Bishop, who is in the city, and who desires toinspect the 'Anchorage'. Cyril declines escorting the party, becausehe finds it painful to meet you now, and he wishes particularly thatyou should show your own department. I shall not be able to climb tothe third story, while my ankles are so swollen, so I must deputizeyou to do the honors on your floor. Hold yourself in readiness, if Ishould send for you, and do not forget to give the Bishop a packageof the new prospectus of the art school. That basket of orchids mustbe delivered before five o'clock. Sister Joanna said you detainedher to make a sketch of it."

"I had almost finished when you summoned me. Send her up for thebasket in half an hour."

The long studio was deserted, and very quiet on that sultry Saturdayafternoon in midsummer, and the drowsy air was laden with fragrancefrom the pots of white carnations, massed on the iron balcony, uponwhich the tall, plate glass windows opened to the north. Down thecentre of the apartment ran a table covered with oil cloth, and onthe walls hung pictures in oil, water-color, crayon, while uponbrackets and pedestals were mounted plaster casts, terra cottaheads, a few bronzes, and some hammered brass plaques. In thecorners of the room, four marvels of taxidermy contributed brilliantcolors mixed on the feathered palettes of a pea-fowl, a scarletflamingo, a gold and a silver pheasant, all perched on miniaturemounds, built of curious specimens of rock, of shells, coral andsphagnum.

The slow, languid swish, swish of the waters stirred by a passingsteamer, broke on the cliff beyond the wall; and along the sky linewhere lake and atmosphere melted insensibly into blue distance,great cumulus copper-colored clouds hooded with salmon-tinted folds,tipped here and there with molten silver, shadowed with pearlyhollows, hung entranced by their own image, over the inland sea thatgleamed like a mirror.

At the end of the studio, near the open windows, Beryl had placedthe plateau basket of orchids on the table; and she stood before aneasel, transferring to the surface of a concave brass plaque, thefluted outlines of the scarlet and orange ribbons, the vivid green,purple and golden-brown lips, the rose velvet cups, the tendercanary-hued calyxes of the glistening floral mass, whose aromaseemed a panting breath from equatorial jungles. Having secured thestrange forms of these vegetable simulacra of the insect world, shereplaced the sheathing of tissue paper around the gorgeous mosaic ofcolor; and just then, Sister Joanna threw open the door, and usheredin a party of visitors, consisting of two gentlemen and a lady. Onewas Mr. Kendall, a member of the Chapter of Trustees.

"Good evening, Sister. Bishop Douglass, of our State, and MissGordon, from the South. I have been boasting to them of the perfectsuccess of the 'Anchorage', as an industrial institution. Will youshow us some of the work done in this department?"

As on a swiftly revolving wheel, Beryl saw the black eyes and gold-rimmed spectacles of Leighton Douglass; the shield-shaped amethystring on his broad, white hand; the slender figure by his side,draped in some soft brown tint of surah silk, the blond hair, thewide, startled hazel eyes of Leo, who made a step forward, thenpaused irresolute.

The gaze of the visitors was fastened upon the superb form wearingthe gray garb of flannel, with snowy fluted frills at the roundedwrists and throat, and a ruffled white muslin mob cap crowning richwaves of bronze hair, that framed a beautiful pale face, whose grayeyes kept always the soft shadow of their long jet lashes.

Only half a minute sufficed to gird Beryl, and with no hint ofrecognition in her tranquil countenance, she moved forward, openedthe drawers, and spread out for inspection various specimens ofdrawing and painting, in all stages of advancement.

A crimson tide overflowed Leo's cheeks, but accepting the cue ofsilence, she refrained from any manifestation of previousacquaintance; and bending over the pictures, listened to the grave,sweet voice that briefly, though courteously answered all inquiriesconcerning the school, hours of classes, tuition fees, remunerativerates paid for designs for carpets, wall papers and decorativeupholstering. Unrolling from a wooden cylinder a strip of thickpaper, two yards long and twenty inches wide, she displayed anelaborate arabesque pattern done in sepia for a sgraffito frieze,sixteenth century, which had been ordered by the architect of thenew "Museum of Art".

"A bit of your favorite Florentine facade," said the Bishop,addressing his cousin, and peering closely at the scroll work.

"In this corner of the world, one scarcely expects a glimpse ofAndrea Feltrini," answered Leo, avoiding the necessity of looking atBeryl, by glancing at Mr. Kendall.

"What are your sources of information?" inquired Bishop Douglass.

"We have a carefully selected collection of engravings, and a fewgood sketches and cartoons; moreover, some of our Sisterhood havebeen in Italy."

In attempting to roll the strip, it slipped from her fingers. Bothwomen stooped to catch it, and their hands met. Looking into Leo'seyes, Beryl whispered: "See me alone." Then she rewound the paper,restored its oil silk cover, and shut the drawer.

"Do you find that the demand for purely ornamental work renders thisdepartment self-sustaining?" asked Leighton Douglass.

"I think the experience of the 'Anchorage' justifies that belief;especially since the popularization of so-called 'Decorative Art',which projects the useful into the realm of the beautiful; and bylending the grace of ornament to the strictly utilitarian, dims theold line of demarcation."

"We are particularly interested in acquiring accurate knowledge onthis subject, because Miss Gordon hopes to establish a similarinstitution near her home in the South; where so many of ourcountrywomen, rendered destitute in consequence of the late war,need training which will enable them to do faithful remunerativework, without compromising their feminine refinement. While inEurope she inspected various industrial organizations; sawKaiserswerth, and the Training Schools for Nurses, even the Swedish'Naas Slojd', and her visit here is solely to verify the flatteringaccounts she has received of the success of the eclectic system ofthe 'Anchorage'. The South is so rich in fine materials that appearto offer a premium for carving, that we wish to investigate thisbranch of 'decorative' labor, and hope you can help us by somepractical suggestions."

"Within the past twelve months, we have commenced the experiment ofwood work; make all the utensils we need, and one of our patronssecured for us some models from the school you mentioned nearGothenburg. As yet we have received only two orders; one for a basein walnut for a baptismal font; the other an oak triptych frame fora choir in a Minnesota church. The carving is a distinct branch,that does not belong to my department; but if you will knock at thearched door on the right hand side of the hall, Sister Katrina, whohas charge of that work, will take pleasure in exhibiting theprocess. Mr. Kendall knows the 'Anchorage' so well, he needs noguide to the work-rooms. Permit me to offer you some copies of ournew prospectus, and also a photograph of this building, as a slightsouvenir of your visit here."

She fitted papers and picture into a square envelope stamped with ananchor in red ink, and handing it to Miss Gordon, walked to the doorand opened it. On the threshold Leo turned, and looked intently intoher face:

"Are you sufficiently at leisure to allow me a little furtherconversation this afternoon; or shall I call again?"

"I am entirely at your service, and shall gladly furnish anyinformation you may desire. Our matron has placed my time at yourdisposal."

"Mr. Kendall, if you will kindly accompany the Bishop to the wood-carving room, I can remain here a little while, to ask Sister somequestions, which would scarcely interest you gentlemen. I will joinyou there, very soon. Leighton, please get an estimate of the costof the necessary outfit, and talk with Mr. Kendall concerning thefeasibility of sending one of our women here for a year."

Closing the door, Beryl put out both hands, and took Leo's. Shestood a moment, holding them in a tight clasp.

"Thank you, for considerately withholding a recognition that wouldhave embarrassed me. I hoped that the habit of our Order would insome degree disguise me, yet, at a glance you knew me."

"Shall I infer that your history is unknown here?"

"Sister Ruth, our Matron, is thoroughly acquainted with my pastlife, but she kindly respects my sorrows, and deems it unnecessaryto publish the details among the Sisterhood. Do you know me solittle, that you imagine I am capable of abusing the confidence ofthe head of an establishment which mercifully shelters an outcast?"

She stepped back, and motioned her visitor to a seat near thebalcony.

"I should be very reluctant to ascribe any unworthy motive to you;therefore I fail to understand why you desire to preserve yourincognito, especially since the signal vindication of yourinnocence. The news of the extraordinary discovery of the picture onthe glass, and of your complete acquittal, even of suspicion, gaveme so much pleasure that I should have written you my heartycongratulations, had I been able to obtain your address."

"I felt assured you would rejoice with me; and because I hold yourgood opinion so valuable, let me say that my happiness in theunexpected vindication of my character was enhanced by the proudconsciousness that in your estimation I needed none. When theblackness of an intolerable shame overshadowed me, you groped yourway to the dungeon, and held out your hands in confidence andsympathy. All the world suspected; you trusted me. You offered yournoble name as bond, and made a place for me at your own sacredhearthstone. Do you think I can ever forget the blessedness of thebalm that your faith in me poured into my crushed, despairing heart?Do you doubt that no sun sets, without seeing me on my knees,praying God's blessing of perfect happiness for you? What would Inot do--what would I not suffer--to secure your peace, and to provemy gratitude?"

Her voice vibrated like the silver string of a deep violon-cello,and Leo, gazing up into the misty splendor of the beautiful sadeyes, ceased to wonder at the fascination which she had exerted overMr. Dunbar. Unintentionally this woman's face had marred her life;had unwittingly stolen her lover's heart; yet she believed notreachery sullied the pure perfection of the soft red lips, andLeo's generous nature rose above the narrow limits of ordinaryfeminine jealousy. Had she doubted for an instant the theory thatBeryl was heroically suffering the penalty of a crime, in order toscreen her guilty lover, some suspicion of the truth might havedawned upon her.

"Suppose I intend to put your gratitude to the test? You haveexaggerated the debt which you acknowledge; are you prepared tocancel it? If I say to you, because I believed in you, trusted you,will you repay me now, by granting a favor which I shall ask?"

"I think Miss Gordon could express no wish that I would not gladlyexecute, in order to promote her happiness."

"Will you come back to X----and help me to establish a home forwomen, who are destitute alike of money and of family ties? When youpreside over it I shall be haunted by no fears of failure. Once, Igave you my sympathy; now, when I need help, will you give meyours?"

Beryl shivered, and looked wonderingly at her companion. Was sheindeed so unsuspicious of the quicksand on which stood the fairtemple of her hopes in marriage?

"O, Miss Gordon! That is the one thing, in all the world, that foryour sake as well as mine, I could never do. No, no; impossible."

"Why, not for my sake, since I desire it so earnestly?"

A bright flush had risen in Leo's cheeks, and she threw back hersmall head challengingly.

For a moment Beryl wavered. Could she bear to wound that proudspirit?

"Go back to X----? To X----! It would be a renewal of my martyrdom,and I should only be a stumbling block in the scheme youcontemplate. You do not understand, perhaps; but believe me, I provemy gratitude by refusing your kind offer."

"I think I understand; and if I am willing to run the risk, whatthen?"

"Do not ask me the impossible. The very atmosphere of X----wouldnumb me, destroy all capability of usefulness, by reviving harrowingmemories."

"Had not every shadow of suspicion vanished, and the entirecommunity manifested delight in your triumphant innocence, I shouldnever have suggested a return to the scene of your sufferings.Certainly, I cannot press the payment of a debt, which youvolunteered to cancel; but I am sorry your refuse to oblige me."

There was a starry sparkle in the soft hazel eyes, and aninvoluntary and unconscious hardening of her lips, as Leo rose.

"It is hard, Miss Gordon, to be always misunderstood; but sometimesduty points to lines that subject us to harsh and bitter censure. Ibear ever a heavy burden; do not increase my load by condemning meas ungrateful, God knows, you hold a warm and a holy place in myheart, and your happiness is more to me than my own; yet the onething you ask, my conscience forbids."

"How long have you been here?"

"It will be two years to-morrow since I entered these peacefulwalls."

"Then your probation ends, and you become permanently a Sister ofthe 'Anchorage'?"

"Not yet. I have been permitted to earn my daily bread here, uponconditions somewhat at variance with the regulations that usuallygovern the institution. I have not applied for admission topermanent membership, because my stay is contingent uponcircumstances, which may call me hence to-morrow; which may neverarise to beckon me away. Sister Ruth generously allows me thelatitude of choice; not for my own sake, but for that of a friend,whose influence secured my admission. After a while, when I havefinished my work, I hope to come back; to spend the residue of myearthly days, and to die here, a faithful Umilta Sister of the'Anchorage', which opened its arms when I was a needy and desolatewaif."

"The peace of your new life is certainly reflected in your face.Patience has had its perfect work; and that 'peace that passeth allunderstanding' is the reward granted you."

Leo held out her hand, and Beryl took it between both hers.

"Dear Miss Gordon, grapes yield no wine until they are crushed,trampled, bereft of bloom, of rounded symmetry, of beautiful color;but the Lord of the Vineyard is entitled to His own. I was a veryproud, self-reliant girl, impatient of poverty, daringly ambitious;and what I deemed a cruel fate, threw me into the vat, to be troddenunder foot. It may be, that when the ferment ends, and time mellowsall, the purple wine of my bruised and broken life may be accountedworthy the seal of a sacramental sacrifice. I have ceased toquestion, to struggle, to plan. Like a blind child, fearing tostumble into ruin, I stand, and stretch out my hands to Him, who hasled me safely through deep waters, along frightful gorges. Each daybrings its work, which I strive worthily to accomplish; but my aimis to lay my heart, mind, soul, my stubborn will, all in God'shands. You think peace the summum bonum? Sometimes we obtain it byan ignominious surrender, when we should possess it by conquest.'Peace of mind is a beautiful and heavenly thing; but even peace ofmind may become an idol; and there is perhaps no idol to which womenbow down more passionately.' For this reason, I am waiting for thedrum beat of duty, and my march may begin at any moment. I asked tosee you alone, in order to beg that you will increase my debt ofobligations, by promising to reveal to no one the place of myretreat. Accident has betrayed to you that which I am anxious tokeep secret; and I trust you will tell no one where you met me."

"Why should you hide, as though you were a culprit? You have been socompletely exonerated from the imputation of guilt which once hungover you, that you owe it to yourself to front the gaze of the worldfearlessly. What have you to dread?"

"The failure of something, which, though its accomplishment costs mevery dear, I shall not relax my efforts to promote. I am trying tobe loyal to my duty, even when the command is to strangle my ownweak heart. You do not, cannot understand. God grant you never will.There are reasons why it is best for me to live in strict seclusion,for the present. Those reasons I can explain neither to you, nor toany other human being; and yet, I ask you to respect them, and tokeep my secret. You trusted me in the terrible exigencies of thepast; and you must trust me now, for--oh! God knows--I do indeeddeserve your confidence."

She raised the hand folded in her own, and bowed her head upon it.

"You have my promise. Without your permission, I will mention ourmeeting to no one. I trust you; and perhaps if you would trust me, Imight render you some aid."

"The day may come, when I can find it compatible with duty to tellyou the secret of my life. In future years, when you are a happywife, I shall by God's help be able to seek you and your husband,and thank you both for many kindnesses. I pray that you may be ashappy as you deserve."

There was no tremor in the voice that answered quickly.

"If you refer to Mr. Dunbar, you have been led astray by the gossipin X----. Once, there seemed a probability that our lives might beunited; but long ago, we found that ardent friendship could not takethe place of love; and rather more than three years have passedsince we have even seen each other."

With a startled movement Beryl dropped her companion's fingers, andlaid a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh! do not tell me that you have broken your engagement!"

The two looked steadily at each other, and while Leo's proud facegave no hint of pain or embarrassment, Beryl's blanched, quivered.

"How did you know that any engagement ever existed?"

"All X----knew it. Mrs. Singleton and Sister Serena told me."

"I dissolved that engagement before I went to Europe."

"Then you rashly wrecked your beautiful future. Why did you cast himoff? He would have made you happy; he is worthy, I think, even ofyou."

"Yes, he is worthy, I believe, of any woman whom he may really love;but my happiness is not in his keeping, and my future holds, Itrust, something much brighter than our marriage would hate provedto me."

"You have thrown away the substance for the shadow. Before it is toolate, reconsider your decision; give him an opportunity to reinstatehimself in your affection. You have both been so kind to me, that Ihave hoped you would find life long happiness in each other."

"Dismiss that delusion. His path and mine diverge more and more, andwe no longer dwell in the same State. He has inherited a largeamount of property in Louisiana, and now lives in New Orleans; henceyou can readily perceive how far apart the currents of our liveshave drifted. I rejoice in my freedom; and he, I suspect, is notinconsolable for my loss."

Through Beryl's whirling brain darted the recollection of a rumor,that Leighton Douglass was suitor for his cousin's hand; and thatMiss Dent favored the alliance. Was the solution of Miss Gordon'scold, calm indifference to be found in the presence and devotion ofthe Bishop? Could he have supplanted Mr. Dunbar in her affection?Had the world swung from its moorings? What meant the light thatbroke upon her, as if the walls of heaven had fallen, and let allthe glory out?

After a moment she said, solemnly:

"I pray God to overrule all earthly things, for your welfare, foryour heart's truest happiness; and for the realization of yourdearest hopes. When my mission has been accomplished, and duty liftsher seal from my lips, I may try to see you once more, and explainthe necessity that forced me to seek seclusion."

"I believe I understand; and I trust your reward will not bedelayed. You and I can lean with confidence upon the wisdom and themercy of the God we worship; but each must serve out His appointedtime of bondage in the Egypt of suffering, in the famine of thedesert; and must drink at Marah, before the blessing of the manna,the grapes of Eshcol, the roses of Sharon. If ever you should needan earthly friend, remember me; and if all other refuge fail you, myhome can be always yours."

Hand in hand they walked to the door, and Leo pitied the future ofthis woman, whose lover was a wandering outlaw, with a price setupon his head; and beneath her gray flannel habit, Beryl's heart wastorn with conflicting emotions, as she watched the placid, proudface, that showed no vestige of the storm of disappointment whichhad stranded her sweetest hope in life.

"Good-bye, Beryl; God keep you in His tender care."

"Good-bye, dear Miss Gordon. I will pray for your happiness, so longas I live."

She stooped, drew Leo's hands to her face, pressed her tremblinglips twice upon them; then turned quickly, and locked herself in thestudio.

Is it true, that "Orestes and Pylades have no sisters?"

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A Persian proverb tells us: "A stone that is fit for the wall is notleft in the way." Strong artistic aspirations will plough througharid sands, leap across bottomless chasms, toil over bristlingobstacles, climb bald, freezing crags to reach that shining plateau,where "beauty pitches her tents", and the Ideal beckons. Favorableenvironment is the steaming atmosphere that fosters, forces anddevelops germs which might not survive the struggle against adverseinfluences, in uncongenial habitat; but nature moulds some typesthat attain perfection through perpetual elementary warfare whichhardens the fibre, and strengthens the hold; as in those invinciblealgx towering in the stormy straits of Tierra del Fuego, swept fromAntartic homes toward the equator,--defying the fierce flail of surfthat pulverizes rock, "Breed is stronger than pasture; and no matterhow savage a stepmother the circumstances of life may prove, theinherited psychological strain will sometimes dominate, and triumph."According to the Talmud: "A myrtle, even in a desert, remains amyrtle".

From her tenth year, Beryl had begun to build her castle in theSpain of Art; daubed its walls with wonderful frescoes, filled itsechoing corridors with heroic men and lovely women of the classicages; and through its mullioned windows looked into an enchantedland, clothed with that witching "light that never was on sea orland". When all else on earth was sombre and dun-hued, sunlight andmoonlight still gilded those magical towers. In darkest nights,through hissing rain and hurtling hail, she caught the glitter ofits starry vanes smiling through murkiness, and above the wail andsob of the storms that had swept over the waste places of her youth,she heard the divine melodies which the immortal harper, Hope,played always in the marvellous palace of the Muses.

In early girlhood she had followed her father into the solemnmysteries of Greek Tragedy; and in that vast white temple dedicatedto the inexorable Fates, where predestined victims moved like marbleimages to their immolation, her own plastic nature had been mouldedin unison with the classic cult. Among the throng of Attic types, animmortal statue of filial devotion and sisterly love had attractedher irresistibly, and to Antigone she rendered the homage of aboundless admiration, an unwavering fealty.

Intellectually, humanity cleaves to idolatry; and each of usworships in the Pantheon, where our favorite divinities inliterature crowd the niches. To become a skilful artist, and paintthe portrait of Antigone, vas the ambition that had shaped andcolored Beryl's young dreams, long ere she suspected that a mournfulparallelism in fate would consign her to a living tomb moreintolerable than that devised by Theban Creon.

Our grandest pictures, statues, poems, are not the canvas, themarble, the bronze, and the gilded vellum, that the world handles,criticises, weighs, buys and sells, accepts with praise, or rejectswith anathema. Invisible and inviolate, imagination, keeps our best,our ideals, locked in the cerebrum cells of "gray matter", which weare pleased to call our workshop.

What art gallery, what library can rival the sublime and beautifulimages that crowd the creased and folded labyrinth of the humanbrain; as far beyond the ken and analysis of the biologist'smicroscope, as some remote nebulae shining in blue gulfs ofinterstellar space, that no telescopic Jense can ever discover, evenas a faint blur of silvery mist upon the black velvet vault thatsuns and planets spangle?

In some degree, Beryl's artistic dream had been realized; and thestudy of years slowly flowered into a large painting, whichrepresented Antigone standing beside the heap of dust, strewnreverently to sepulchre the form dimly outlined at her feet. Thesullen red sunset of a tempestuous day flared from the horizon,across a desolate plain; showed the city walls in the background,the hungry vultures poised high above the dead, the marauding dogscrouched in the wind-swept sand, watching their banquet, decreed bythe king. The dust had been scattered from a black vase that bore onits front, in a circular medallion, the lurid head of grinningHecate; and the last rite to appease the unquiet manes was performedby the uplifted right arm that poured libations from a burnishedbrass urn, held aloft over the pall of earth that denned the figurebeneath. The left hand was stretched, not heavenward, butshieldingly over the mound, and in the beautiful, stern face bent alittle downward in invocation of the infernal gods, one read sublimeself-surrender, grief for Oedipus, regret for Hasmon, farewell tolife,--mingled with exultant consciousness that a successfulsacrifice had been accomplished for Polynices, and that the spiritof the brother rested in peace.

The soul of the artist seemed to look triumphantly through thesolemn, purplish blue eyes of the young martyr, and Beryl knew thather own heart beat under the pamted folds of the diploidion; thatshe had epitomized in a symbolic picture, the history of her ownjoyless youth.

The canvas had been framed and hung at the art exhibition of the new"Museum", opened in September; and only the "U" traced in one cornerbeneath an anchor, indicated that it was the work of the UmiltaSisters' "Anchorage".

The public peered, puzzled, shook its sapient head, shrugged itsauthoritative shoulders, and sundry criticisms crept into thejournals; but the prophet was judged in "his own country"; and homework, according to universal canons, rarely finds favor among homeawarding committees, whose dulness its uncomprehended excellenceaffronts.

One censured vehemently the masonry of the city wall; anotherdeplored pathetically the "defective foreshortening of a dog'sshoulders"; the picture "lacked depth of tone"; the "coloring wastoo bizarre", the "tints too neutral".

Like chemicals tested in a laboratory, or like Pharaoh's lean kine,each objection devoured the preceding one; and unanimity of blameassaulted only one salient point on the entire canvas: the redsandals of the Greek girl--upon which outraged good taste fell withpitiless fury.

Undismayed, Beryl withdrew her picture, erased the ciphers in thecorner, and shipped it to New York to Doctor Grantlin, who hadrecently returned from Europe; requesting him to place it at apicture dealer's on Broadway, and to withhold the name of its birth-place.

Two weeks later, a popular journal published an elaboratedescription of "A painting supposed to have been obtained abroad bya New York collector, who merited congratulation upon possession ofa masterpiece, which recalled the marvellous technique of Gerome,the atmosphere of Jules Breton, the rich, mellow coloring, andespecially the scrupulous fidelity of archaic detail, whichcharacterized Alma Tadema; and was conspicuously manifest in the redshoes so distinctively typical of Theban women".

Mr. Kendall caused this article to be copied into the leadingnewspaper of his own city; and the first mail, thereafter, carriedto New York an offer of eight hundred dollars for the painting, fromthe President of the "Museum" Directors, who had been so shocked bythe unknown significance of the "red shoes". After a few days, itwas generally known, but mentioned with bated breath, that the"Antigone" had been bought by a wealthy Philadelphian, who paid forit two thousand dollars, and hung it in his gallery, where Fortunys,Madrazos, and Diazs ornamented the walls.

Why should journeying abroad to render "Caesar's things" to foreignCaesars, demand such total bankruptcy that we must needs repudiatethe just debts of home creditors, whose chimneys smoke just beyondthe fence that divides us? De mortuis nil nisi bonum is atraditional and sacred duty to departed workers; but does it exhausthuman charity, or require contemptuous crusade against equallyhonest, living toilers? Are antiquity and foreign birthplaceimperatively essential factors in the award of praise for evenfaithful and noble work? We lament the caustic moroseness ofembittered Schopenhauer, brooding savagely over his failure tosecure contemporaneous recognition; yet after all, did he malign hisrace, or his age, when, in answer to the inquiry where he desired tobe buried, he scornfully exclaimed: "No matter where; posterity willfind me."

It was on the 26th of October, a week subsequent to the receipt ofthe letter which contained the check sent in payment for thepicture, that Beryl sat down on the stone sill of her oriel window,to rest in the seclusion of her room, after the labors of the day.

It was the anniversary of her ill-starred visit to X----, andmelancholy memories had greeted her at dawn, clung to her skirts,chanted their dismal refrain, and renewed the pain which time had insome degree dulled. Four years ago she had felt her mother'sfeverish lips on hers, in a parting kiss, and four years ago to-daythe sun of her girlhood had passed suddenly into total eclipse.Since then, moving in a semi-twilight, suffering had prematurelyaged her, and she had schooled herself to expect no star, save thatof duty, to burn along her lonely path. To-day, she thought of thepride her picture would have aroused in her devoted father; of thecomforts the money would have purchased for her invalid mother; ofthe pleasure, success as an artist would have brought to her ownambitious soul, if only it had not come so many years too late. Whatcrown could fame bring to one, dwelling always in the chill shadowof a terrible shame? The glory of noble renown could never gild aname that had answered at the convicts' roll call; a name which, atany moment, Bertie's arrest might drag back to the disgrace ofestablished felony.

Of all mocking fiends, the arch torturer is that hand which drawsaside the black curtain of grim actuality, and shows us thewonderful realm of "might have been", where lost hopes blossometernally, and the witchery of hallowed illusions is neverdispelled.

Wearily Beryl closed her eyes, as though the white lids availed toshut out visions, tantalizing as the dream of bubbling springs, andpalm-fringed isles of dewy verdure, to the delirious traveller dyingof thirst, in the furnace blasts of mid-desert.

If she had defied her mother's wishes, and refused to go to X--? Howdifferent the world would seem to her; but, what was a world worth,that had never known Mr. Dunbar?

Over burning ploughshares she had walked to meet one destined tostir to its depths the slumbering sea of her tenderest love; and toforego the pain, would she relinquish the recompense?

During the months that elapsed after Leo's visit to the "Anchorage",Beryl had surrendered her heart to the great happiness of dwelling,unrebuked by conscience, upon the precious assurance that the loveof the man whom she had so persistently defied and shunned, wasirrevocably hers. The sharpest pain that can horrow womanhood,springs from the contemplation of the superior right of another tothe object of her affection; and though honor coerces submission tothe just claims of a rival, renunciation of the beloved entailspangs that no anaesthetic has power to quiet.

After the long struggle to aid Miss Gordon's accepted lover inkeeping his vows of loyalty, the discovery of his freedom, and thebelief that Bishop Douglass had supplanted him in the affection ofher generous benefactress, had brought to Beryl an exquisiterelease; sweet as the spicy breath of the tropics wafted suddenly tosome stranded, frozen Arctic voyager. Heroic and patient, keepingher numb face steadfastly turned to the pole star of duty, where thecompass of conscience pointed--was the floe ice on which she hadbeen wrecked, drifting slowly, imperceptibly, yet surely down to thepurple warmth of the Gulf Stream, dotted with swelling sails ofrescue? Like oceanic streams meeting, running side by side,freighted with cold for the equatorial caldrons, with heat for thepoles, are not the divinely appointed currents of mercy and ofaffliction, God's agents of compensation, to equalize the destiniesof humanity?

We rail at Fate as triple monsters; but sometimes it happens, thatthe veil of inscrutability floats aside, for an instant, and wecatch a glimpse of the radiant smile of an infinite love.

Hope had set in Beryl's sky, but a tender afterglow held off thecoming night, when she thought of the face that had bent soyearningly above her, of the passionate voice and the thrillingtouch that were now her most precious memories. The pearl which MissGordon had cast away as worthless, the discarded convict mightsurely, without sin, claim as her own for ever. To-day an intenselonging to see him once more, to hear from his lips praise of her"Antigone", disturbed the tranquillity that was spreading its robesof minever over a stony path; but she put aside the temptation.

To the Sisterhood of the "Anchorage" she had given one-half theproceeds of the picture sale; and the remainder would enable her atlast to renew the search for her unhappy brother. So vague were thetopographical lines furnished by the English tourist, thatprosecuting her quest in the remote wilderness of mountains, whichwore their crown of snow, seemed a reckless waste of hope, time andmoney; nevertheless, she must make the attempt. She knew that agigantic railway system was crawling like an anaconda under rockyranges, over foaming rivers, stretching its sinuous steel trail fromBay of Chaleur to Georgia Gulf; with termini that saw the sun risefrom the Atlantic Ocean, and watched its setting in the red glory ofthe far Pacific; and perhaps steam shovels, and iron tight-ropesmight furnish her facilities on her long journey.

Winter would soon overtake her, and in the inhospitable region whereher brother had been surprised at his prayers, how could a lonelywoman travel without protection? Doubt, apprehension flitted as ill-boding birds of night, flapping dusky wings to hide the signalbeacon, which love and duty swung to and fro; yet the yearning tosee her brother's face again, dwarfed all barriers, and she trustedGod's guidance.

On a chair near her, lay, on this afternoon, a map which for manydays she had been studying; and opening it once more, she ran afinger along the dotted lines, mentally debating whether it would bebest to go by rail to Ottawa, by water to Sault St. Marie, whencethe new railway could be easily reached, or whether the most directroute would be via St. Paul to Winnepeg. When she left the"Anchorage", her destination must remain a secret; hence she couldask no counsel. In view of approaching cold weather, economy of timeseemed imperative; and she resolved to buy a railway ticket toFargo, where she could elude suspicion, should the threatenedinvisible detective "shadow" her; and whence another Pacific highwayoffered egress to western wilds. With this definite conclusion sheclosed the map, and a moment later, some one knocked at her door.

"Come in."

She went forward, and met Sister Katrina, a robust dame of fortyyears, blond as Gerda; with the "light of the glowworm's tails" inher golden-lashed violet eyes, and the "ruby spots of the cowslip'sleaves" on her full, frank lips.

"Will you sit a while with me? There is still a half hour, beforeyour evening work begins in the carving shop. Come in."

"I am sorry I have not time now, to indulge myself in such luxury asa chat with you always proves. I came to beg the loan of your Indiaink copy of the marble screens at Agra; which I have an idea wouldbe very effective done in cherry, for the panels under the newbookcases we are designing for the library."

"The copy is up stairs in the studio; but I shall be glad to get itfor you."

"No; with your permission I can help myself, and I am going up therenow, for some red chalk. I know exactly where to find the picture,because I was examining it two days ago. What think you of my idea?"

"I am afraid you will find cherry too dark. A lighter wood, I think,would be better adapted to the exceeding delicacy of the design."

"Wait till I cut out a sample scroll, and we will talk it over.Sister Ruth asked me to hand to you this paper, which contains avery complimentary notice of your lovely picture. I read it as Icame up, and congratulate you on all the fine things said. Youscarcely know how proud we feel of our Sister's work. Thanks for theuse of the drawing."

She smiled, nodded and closed the door; and when her bright cheerycountenance vanished, it seemed as though a film of cloud haddrifted across the sun.

Beryl went back to a low chair in front of the window, and openedthe paper, which chanced to be the New York "Herald." Unfolding itto hunt the designated article, her glance fell accidentally uponthe personal column. Her heart leaped, then almost ceased beating,as she read:

"Important. Bertie will meet Gigina in the Museum at Niagara Falls,Canada side, any day during the last week in October."

Two years and a half had almost gone by since she inserted theadvertisement, to which this was evidently a reply. Long ago she hadceased to expect any tidings through this channel; but the seed sownin faith, watered by tears, and guarded by continual prayer hadstirred to life; blossomed in the sunshine of God's pitying smile,and after weary waiting, the ripe fruit fell at her feet. How fairand smooth, rosy and fragrant it appeared to her famishing heart?How opportune the guiding hand that pointed her way, when crossroads baffled her. Two days later, she would have been journeyingaway from the coveted goal. Now the tide of battle was turning. Hadthe stars rolled back on their courses to rescue Sisera?

How long the happy woman sat there, exulting in the mellowness ofthe perfect fruit of patience, she never knew.

Day died slowly; the vivid crimson and dazzling gold that fired theWest were reflected in the tranquil bosom of the lake, faded intothe tender pale rose of the sacred lotus, into the exquisite tintsthat gild the outer petals of a daffodil, the heart of buttercups;and then, robed in faintest violet powdered with silvery dust, thevast pinions of Crepuscule spread over sky and water, fanning intofull flame the glittering sparks of planets and constellations thatlighted the chariot course of the coming moon.

Across the sleeping lake hurried a north wind, on its long journeyto blow open the snowy camellias folded close in the heart of theSouth, and under his winged sandals the waters crimped, rippled,swelled into wavelets that played their minor adagio in nature'snocturn, as their foam fingers fell on the pebbles that fringed thebeach. From the deck of a schooner anchored off shore, floated thedeep voice of a man singing Schubert's "Ave Maria"; and far, faraway over the weird waste of waters, where a buoy marked a sunkenwreck, its red beacon burned like the eye of Polyphemus, crouchingin darkness, watching to surprise Galatea.

The penetrating chill of the night air aroused Beryl from herprofound trance; and lighting the gas over her dressing table, shere-read the magical words that had transformed her narrow world.This was Monday the 26th, and next Saturday was the limit of theproposed interview. One day must suffice for necessary preparation,and starting by early morning express on Wednesday, she would arrivein time to keep the tryst that involved so much. She cut out thenotice that was merely a sentence in the page of socialhieroglyphics, where no key fitted more than one paragraph, andforgetting the criticism on her picture, she went swiftly downstairs.

The members of the Sisterhood were at supper, and she waited at therefectory door for an opportunity to meet the matron.

On the platform raised in the centre of the long room, sat thereader for the day, Sister Agatha; a plump, florid young woman, withbright black eyes, and a voice sweet and strong as the flute stop ofan organ. The selection that evening had been from "Agate Windows"and "Ice Morsels", and the closing words were:

"Alpine flowers are warmed by snow; the summer beauty of our hills,and the autumn fertility of our valleys, have been caused by thecold embrace of the glacier; and so, by the chill of trial andsorrow, are the outlines of Christian character moulded andbeautified. And we, who recognize the loving kindness as well as thepower of God in what may seem the harsher and more forbiddingagencies of nature, ought not to be weary and faint in our minds, ifover our own warm human life, the same kind pitying Hand shouldsometimes cause His snow of disappointment to fall like wool, andcast forth His ice of adversity like morsels; knowing that even bythese unlikely means, shall ultimately be given to us also, as tonature, the beauty of Sharon, and the peace of Carmel!"

Somewhere in the apartment, a bell tapped. All rose, and each headin the gray ranks bowed, while "thanks" were offered; then amid asubdued murmur of conversation, the Sisterhood filed out, gatheredin groups, separated for various duties.

"Sister Ruth, may I see you alone?" asked Beryl, touching her arm inthe hall.

"This is the night for the examination of accounts, of last week'sexpenses, and I shall be busy with Sister Elena, our book-keeper;moreover, I promised to look over the linen closet of the Infirmary,with Sister Consuelo, whose demands are like those of the daughterof the horse-leech. Is your business urgent?"

"Yes; but I will not detain you more than ten minutes."

"Very well, come to my cabinet."

The place designated was a pigeon box in size, and adjoined thereception room on the first floor. Two desks packed with papers,three chairs and a picture of Elijah and the ravens, constituted thefurniture. The matron brightened the light, seated herself andlooked at her companion.

"Well. What can I do for you? Why, Sister? Something has happened;your face is all aglow, your eyes are great stars."

"Yes; a heavy burden I have long borne is slipping from my heart,and after the pressure it rebounds. I have told you that my stayhere was contingent on events which I could not control; that at anymoment I might consider it incumbent upon me to go away into theworld; therefore, I could bind myself by no compact to remainpermanently in the 'Anchorage'. The time has come; the drum taps, Imust march away."

"And you are so glad to leave us?" said the matron, gazing in wonderat the radiant face, usually so impassive and cold with its lockedlips, and grave, sad, downcast eyes.

"No, glad only in the occasion that calls me; regretting that dutyseparates me temporarily from the Sisterhood, who so mercifullyopened their arms, when I had no spot in all the wide world where Icould lay my head, but the sod on my mother's grave. This blessedhaven is for those whose first duty in life summons them nowherebeyond its walls. If conscience bade you leave these peaceful andhallowed halls, for work far more difficult, would you hesitate toobey? It is safer and less arduous to keep step with the main army;but some must perish on picket duty, and is the choice ours, when anorder details us?"

"Who signed your order?"

Sister Ruth took off her spectacles, and bent closer, with akeenness of scrutiny, that was unflatteringly suspicious.

"My dear mother."

"I understood that you had been an orphan for years?"

"Yes, for four wretched, lonely and terrible years; but no tomb isdeep enough to shut in the voice that uttered our mother's lastwishes; and all time cannot hush the sound of the command, cannothide the beloved hand that pointed to the path she asked us tofollow. When my mother kissed me good-bye, she blessed me, becauseof a promise I gave her; and Heaven means to me the place where Ican look into her sainted face, and tell her 'Hold me close to yourtender heart, for oh! I have indeed kept my word. Your little girlobeyed your last command.'" Her voice trembled, and she passed onehand over her eyes for an instant.

"Sister Ruth, the opportunity has arrived, and I go to execute thelast clause of a sacred order. When I shall have finished mymission, I shall want to come back home. Oh! you see? I call ithome. For where else can I ever have a home, till I join my fatherand mother? If I should come back and ask you to take me for theremainder of my life, as a sister worker, will you let me die withthe 'anchor' on my breast? I shall be as worthy of your confidencethen, as I am now."

"Where are you going?"

"I hoped that you would not ask me, because I cannot tell you now.Will you not trust me?"

"Your extremely cautious reticence makes it difficult; and I havealways known that some distressing mystery brought you here."

"Confidence that defies suspicious appearances is precious indeed;but confidence that crumbles like Jericho's walls at the blast ofJoshua's trumpets, is as worthless a sham as a cable whose strandspart at the first taut strain. Sister Ruth, there are reasons why Igo away alone, to an unknown destination; and I am about to taxyour trust yet more severely, when I tell you that I need thedisguise of the 'Umilta' uniform. I ask your permission to wear itduring my absence."

The matron shook her head.

"Surely, Sister Ruth, you cannot think it possible that I shouldbring discredit upon this dear gray flannel, which I hold as sacredas priestly vestments?"

She laid her cheek against her own shoulder, with a caressingmotion, and passed her fingers softly across her sleeve.

"My young sister, to some extent I am responsible for those who wearthe 'Umilta' gray. If I allowed you to carry our badge under suchpeculiar circumstances beyond the limits of my supervision, I shouldhazard too much; should deserve the severity of the censure I mostcertainly should receive, if any disaster brought reproach upon ourspotless record as an institution. It was not designed as a disguisein which to masquerade for unknown purposes."

Beryl put up both hands, pressing her pretty white cap close to herears; and her lips trembled, as was their wont, when she waswounded.

"Do not discrown me. My father's Beryl will never sully your purerecord; and it would be as impossible for me to disgrace youruniform, as defile my mother's shroud. Grant me the protection ofthis consecrated garb."

"No. The 'Anchorage' must remain as heretofore, like Caesar's wife."

"Although I have lived here so long, how little you know me."

"Very true, my Sister; therefore, as custodian of the interests ofour little community, I must not put them in jeopardy. When do youexpect to take your departure?"

"Wednesday, at 6 A.M., on the express for New York."

"Have you received letters?"

"No, Sister. Doctor Grantlin is the only person who writes to me,and as his letters are always addressed to your care, I receive themfrom your hands."

"How long do you propose to stay in New York?"

"I am not going to New York, and I know not how long I may bedetained; but I desire to return without needless delay."

"Then you want your money."

"Give me to-morrow five hundred dollars, and keep the remainderuntil I come, or until you hear from me. Please say that I have goneon a journey to fulfil a pledge made years ago; and try not to showthe Sisters that you have no confidence in me. That--would rob myhome-coming of half its pleasure. If any unforeseen accident shouldkeep me away, should cut short a life which has overflowed withgreat sorrow, then retain the money and the pictures I leave behind;and believe that I died, as I have lived, not unworthy of all thykindness and true charity this dear sacred 'Anchorage' has shown tome. Sister Elena is impatient; I hear her walking up and down thefloor. While I am absent, Sister Katrina, and especially SisterAnice, can take my place in the Art School; and all my orders werefinished last week, except the mirror for Mrs. St. Clair. She wishedit framed in scarlet bignonias, and as the painting is more thanhalf done, Sister Anice can easily complete it. I will not detainyou longer. Good-night, Sister Ruth."

No sleep visited Beryl, and as she lay at two o'clock, watching theshimmer of the moonlight reflected from the tossing waves upon thepanes of her wide window, where the tangled mesh of quivering rayscoiled, uncoiled, glided hither and yon like golden serpents, sheheard the click of the key, and the turning of the knob in a door,which opened from the alcove into an adjoining room. That apartmentwas reserved as a guest chamber; had been unoccupied for months; andpuzzled by the sound, Beryl sat up in her bed and listened. The bluefolds of the drapery hanging over the alcove arch, were drawn aside,and Sister Ruth, wrapped in a trailing dressing-gown, held up asmall lamp and peered cautiously around.

"What is the matter, Sister?"

"Did I frighten you? I came this way rather than knock at the otherdoor, because Sister Frances is on watch to-night; and though she isa dear good soul, she is afflicted with an undue share of thefeminine frailty, curiosity, and I prefer that no one should canvassmy unseasonable visit to you. Do not get up."

She put the brass lamp on a chair, and sat down on the edge of thebed.

"Our conversation has disquieted me, and I cannot sleep. Long ago,for my own sake, I made a rule by which to govern my judgment of myfellow beings; and it amounts to this: where I cannot be sure ofevil in others, I give them the benefit of the doubt, and sincerelyendeavor to think the best. I have watched you very closely. Thereis much that I cannot understand; much that it appears strange youshould hesitate to explain; yet in these years I have had no causeto question your truthfulness, and that is the basis of all humanworth. We profess to live here as one family, as sisters, holdingeach other in love, charity and trust; yet in searching myself to-night, I fear I have gone astray. I have pondered and prayed overthis matter, and my heart yearns toward you. I feel as I fancy amother might, who had too hastily slapped the face of her child;and, my sister, I have come to say, forgive me, if I too harshlyrefused your request, if I wounded you."

She held out her hand, but Beryl did not see it; she had covered herface, and unable to speak she leaned forward and laid her head onthe matron's lap. Gently the thin fingers stroked the shining hair,until they were drawn down and pressed to the girl's lips.

"Again, I asked myself, whether my decision had not been inspired byan overweening pride in the public estimation of our home; ratherthan by an unselfish regard for the welfare and peace of mind of oneof its members? What will the world think of us, must besubordinated to, what is the best for my young sister, whose crossit is my duty to lighten? I cannot bear to give you up; and I shall,I will trust you. Wear the 'gray' armor, and remember, if any blotstain it, you will bring disgrace upon a holy cause; you will be thefirst to stain the Umilta uniform; and I shall be blamed, forreposing confidence in one who betrayed us to public scorn. MySister Beryl, I give you 'the gray'. God grant it may shelter youfrom harm, and bring you home to fill my place with honor, when Ihave passed into the eternal Anchorage."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Over the region of the great lakes, her favorite haunt, hung theenchanted stillness, the misty glamour of the purple-cloaked witch--Indian Summer; whose sorcery veiled the dazzling face of the sun,and changed the silver lustre of Selene into the vast, solemn redblot that stared wonderingly at its own weird image in the glassywaters.

Wrapped in that soft, sweet haze, which like the eider down ofcharity smooths all roughness, rounds all angles, the world of shoreand lake presented a magical panorama of towns and villages, herdsof cattle, flocks of sheep, spires of churches, masts of vessels,--all flashing past the open window of the car, where Beryl sat,watching the shadows lengthen as the long train thundered eastward,and the tree dials marked the hour record on the golden brownstubble fields.

When the goal is in sight, do we dwell on the hazard, the strainedmuscles, the blistered feet, and the fierce thirst the long race-course cost us? Who know that they are weary and spent, while theprize brightens, nears as they stretch panting to grasp it?

The certainty of meeting her brother, the anticipation of all thatshe felt assured he would promise concerning his future, when helearned the severity of the ordeal which she had endured in hisbehalf, blotted out the costliness of the accomplishment. Like thatglorious violet haze of Indian Summer, which was drawing itsopalescent drapery along the vanishing iron railway track blackenedwith cinders, and softly shrouding the grim outlines of wreck, thattold where a vessel had foundered on the lake in the early autumngale, an overruling Providence seemed shedding peace even upon hertroubled past. In the swift flash of the divine fire that sanctifiedthe accepted sacrifice, she was too dazzled to remember the moan ofthe slaughtered victim, the agony of the death struggle; and now,her thoughts spanned the gulf of time, and painted the eternalreunion of the broken and dishonored family group.

From these comforting reflections she was aroused by a piercing crythat made her spring forward, and scan the crowd of human facescollected close to the rails, at a small town where the cars hadhalted.

On a side track in front of her window, was a train which had justdashed in from Buffalo, and amid the surging mass of jeeringspectators, two officers stepped down from the platform, each with ahand on the arm of a man, who was heavily handcuffed. At the sight,a white-haired, withered woman leaning from a carriage and staringwith horror-haunted eyes, had screamed, and was falling backinsensible.

"That is his mother. Poor thing, why did they let her come? He isher only boy," said a man to his comrade, who stood near Beryl'sseat.

"What is the matter?" asked a gentleman, sitting immediately infront of her.

"Two of our officers winged a bird, who thought it was safe flyingover yonder, with the lake between him and the county jail. Canadais handy hunting-ground, when the game happens to be runawaythieves; and we have bagged one. He was the cashier of our SavingsBank, and not satisfied with tampering with the books, and forcingbalances, he finally robbed the vault of a lot of gold, and flewacross the line. His wife met him at St. Catherine's, and he met theiron bracelets he was dodging."

The train moved on, and once more Beryl heard the howling of thewolves, that she had hoped were left forever behind; that now seemedin full cry bearing down upon their prey. Should she return to the"Anchorage", and advertise Bertie's danger? So vague were her ideasrelative to the limits of extradition, that she had regarded Canadaas a city of refuge; considered its protection of United States'criminal fugitives as efficacious, as meeting a Vestal Priestess onthe way to his execution, proved in rescuing a Roman malefactor fromthe penalty of violated law; but this shred of comfort had parted,when most she required its aid.

"Yes, I understand extradition provisions have been arranged, whichare bound to have a wholesome effect; especially in this section,where it is so easy to slip across the lakes any dark night. I amtold nearly all felonies will be embraced now--from murder toburglary--and that Her Majesty's Secretaries are more willing to aidour officers, than was the case a few years ago, when no end ofquibbling tied up justice."

The gentlemen on the seat in front of her, moved away to the smokingcar; and the woman in gray listened to the creak and whirr of thewheel of torturing dread, upon which some malignant fate once morebound her. Bertie had been safe in his mountain fastness, until herill-starred advertisement coaxed him within reach of the policeBriareus. Could she discern the hand of merciful warning in thisfortuitous meeting with a captured culprit; which so vividlyrecalled the maddening incidents of her return to X---, when thesheriff had hurried her from the car? A sickening terror seized her,and along the expanse of pearly mist that united earth and sky, intke snowy fringe of ripples breaking their teeth on the shelvingbeach, she seemed to read the doom of her stratagem written in wordsof menace:

"Go where you may, but I give you fair warning you cannot escape me;and the day on which you meet that guilty vagabond, you betray himto the scouts of justice."

Far away, among the orange groves of Louisiana, would he forget histhreat, or fail to execute it? On and on darted the train; peoplelaughed and talked; a tired baby swayed from side to side on thenurse's knees, crooned herself to sleep; and a canary in a cagecovered with pink net, broke suddenly into a spasm of trills androulades.

It was almost four o'clock when the dull roar of Niagara set the aira tremble, and the few remaining passengers left the train. Thelittle town was unusually quiet and deserted, the tide of summertravel having ebbed; and not until the crystal fingers of the icefairy had built her wonderful Giralda out of foam and spray, wouldthat of Winter tourists begin to flow.

Leaving her trunk at the "baggage room" of the station, Berylengaged a carriage driver to take her to the Suspension Bridge.Drawing her gray bonnet and veil as far as possible over her face,she paid the toll, and noticed that the keeper peered curiously ather, and muttered something in an undertone to a man wearing auniform, who turned and stared at her.

She hurried away along that iron mesh swinging high in air like avast spider web, spun from shore to shore across the swirling,snarling caldron of hissing waters. Was the officer the wary spiderwatching her movements, waiting to slip down the metal snare, anddevour her hopes? Her heart beats sounded as the heavy thuds of adrum; the rush of dire forebodings drowned even the roar of theFalls, and the magnificence of the spectacle vanished before theawful realization of the danger to which she had invited Bertie.

The bridge was deserted; no human being was visible; and now andthen she glanced back over her shoulder, dreading she knew not whatform of pursuit. At last her flying feet touched British soil, butshe knew now, that neither Bezer nor yet Shechcm lay before her; andno sign-post rose to welcome her, with the "Refuge--Refuge"--thewater and the bread appointed of old, for spent fugitives. Canadawas an ambush that, despite all caution, might betray her. Againstthe last rail of the bridge she leaned, tried to steady her nerves;and put up one passionate prayer:

On the wide gallery of the "Clifton House" stood a gardener engagedin removing the flower baskets that hung between the columns; and ashe paused in his work, to observe the quaint gray figure below, sheasked, in a voice that was strained beyond its customary sweetness:

"Please direct me to the Museum."

"Follow the street along the cliff, and you can't miss it. Behindthose trees yonder, on the right hand side. To the best of mybelief, it is shut up this week."

Turning south, she walked more leisurely, lest undue haste shouldexcite suspicion; and all the solemn sublimity of the sceneconfronted her. The green crescent of the Horseshoe blanched tofoam, as it leaped to the stony gulf below, the wreaths of mistfloating up, gilded by the sunshine; the maddened rush of thetossing, frothing, whirling rapids seething like melted gold as thewestern radiance smote the bubbling surface; the scarlet flakes offoliage clinging to the trees on Goat Island, and far above, on thewooded height beyond, the picturesque outlines of the Convent,lifting its belfry against the azure sky. As doomed swimmers lost inthose rapids, swept head downward to destruction, nearing the lastwild plunge catch the glimmer of that consecrated tower held aloft,so to Beryl's eyes it now seemed a symbol of comfort; and faith oncemore girded her.

A woman wearing a blue plaid handkerchief tied over her head andknotted under her chin, and carrying a basket of red apples on onearm, while with the other she led a lowing cow along the dusty road,paused at a signal, in front of the gray clad stranger.

"Which is the Museum?"

"Yonder, where the goats are huddled."

The building was closed, but in those days a garden lay to the northof it; and a small gate that gave admittance to seats and flowersconnected with the Museum, now stood open.

The walks were strewn with pale yellow poplar leaves, and borderedwith belated pink hollyhocks, and crimson chrysanthemums blighted byfrost, shivering in their death chill; and from a neighboring willowstripped of curtaining foliage, a lonely bird piped its plaintivethrenody, for the loss of one summer's mate. At the extremity of thelittle garden, under shelter of an ancient, gnarled tree, thatscreened a semicircular seat from the observation of those passingon the street, Beryl sat down to rest; to collect her thoughts.

In the solitude, she threw back her veil, leaned her head againstthe trunk of the tree where wan lichens made a pearly cushion, andshut her eyes. The afternoon was wearing away; a keen wind shook thebare boughs; only the ceaseless, unchanging chant of waters rosefrom the vast throat of nature, invoking its God.

She heard no footsteps; but some strange current attacked her veins,thrilled along her nerves, strung as taut as the wires of a harp,and starting up she became aware that a man was standing on theclover sward close to her. A dark brown overcoat, a broad brimmed,soft wool hat, drawn as a mask down to the bridge of the nose, and abare hand covering the mouth, was all she saw.

Stretching out her arms, she sprang to meet him:

"O Bertie! At last! At last!"

The figure drew back slightly, lifted his hat; and where she hadexpected to see her brother's golden curls, the crisp, black locksof Mr. Dunbar met her gaze.

"You! Here?"

She staggered, and sank back on the bench; the realization ofBertie's peril throttling the joy that leaped up in her heart, atsight of the beloved features.

"I am here. I come as promptly to fulfil my promise as you to keepyour tryst. Do you understand me so little, that you doubted myword?"

Her bonnet had slipped back, and as all the chastened beauty of herface framed in the dainty cap, became fully exposed, a heavy sighescaped him, and he set his teeth, like one nerved to enduretorture.

For months he had nourished the germ of a generous purpose, hadtried to accustom himself to the idea of ultimately surrenderingher; but in her presence, a certain bitter fury swept away thewretched figment, and he remembered only how fair, how holy, howdear she was to him. Once more the cry of his famishing heart was:"Death may part us. I swear no man's arms ever shall."

"Why waylay and torment me? Have I not suffered enough at yourhands? Between me and mine not even you can come."

"Take care! For your sake I am here, hoping to spare you some pangs;to allow you at least an opportunity to see him--"

"What have you done? Don't tell me I am too late. Where is he? Oh!where--where is he?"

She had sprung up, and her hands closed around his arm, shaking itin the desperation of her dread; while her voice quivered under thestrain of a conjecture that Bertie had already been arrested.

"Where is your chivalrous, courageous, unselfish, devoted lover? Toascertain exactly where he skulks, is my mission to Canada; for Ithought I had schooled myself to bear the pain of--"

"What do you mean? What have you done with my Bertie? Oh--"

She threw herself suddenly on her knees, held up her hands, and awailing cry broke the stillness:

"Save him, Mr. Dunbar! You will break my heart if you bring ruinupon his dear head. He is all I have on earth, he is my own brother!My brother! my brother!"

The blood ebbed from his face; the haughty mouth twitched in asudden spasm, and he put his hand over his eyes.

Could she adopt this ruse to thwart pursuit of the man whom sheidolized? For half a moment he stood, with whitened lips; thenstooped, took the face of the kneeling woman in his palms, andscanned it.

"Your brother?"

"My brother. Do you understand at last, why I must save him? Why youmust help me to screen him from ruin?"

"Great God! After all, what a blind fool I have been!"

He raised her, placed her on the bench; sat down and leaned his headon his hand. To Beryl, the silence that followed was an excruciatingtorture, beyond even her power of endurance.

"Do not keep me in suspense. Where is Bertie? Let me see him, if heis here."

"He is not here. It was to assist you in finding him, that I enticedyou here."

"You enticed me?"

"I put the advertisement in the 'Herald', knowing that if youchanced to see it, all the legions of Satan could not keep you away.I have been here since Sunday, waiting and watching. I was obligedto see you, for your own sake, as well as to satisfy my longing tolook once more into your face; and I felt assured the magnetic nameof 'Bertie' would draw you here swiftly."

"Then it was only a snare, that advertisement? Oh! you are cruel!"

"Not to you. It was to promote your peace of mind, by enabling youto meet the man who, I supposed was your lover, that I invited youto this place. Mark you, only to see, never to marry him."

"Where is he?"

"Exactly where, I do not yet know; but very soon you shall learn."

"Is he in peril?"

"Not from arrest at present, by human officers of retributivejustice."

"He is not coming here?"

"Certainly not."

"How did you learn his name?"

"I suspected that the advertisement you published in the "Herald"after leaving X---, was a clue that would aid me. I clung to it, forI was sure it referred to the man whom I have hunted sopersistently."

"You have something to tell me. Be merciful, and end my suspense."

"First, answer one question. Why did you conceal from me the factthat you had a brother? Why did you allow me to suffer from a falsetheory, that you knew made my life a slow torture?"

He leaned nearer, and under the blue fire of his eager eyes, theblood mounted into her pale cheeks.

"My motive belongs to a past, with which I trust I have doneforever; and you have no right to violate its buried ashes."

"I must, and I will have all the truth, cost what it may. Betweenyou and me, no spectre of mystery shall longer stalk. If you hadtrusted me, and confessed the facts before the trial, you would havemuzzled me effectually, and prevented the employment of detectiveswhom I have hissed on your brother's track. Why did you lead meastray, and confirm my suspicion that you were shielding a lover?"

"I was innocent; but my name, my father's honored name, was injeopardy of dishonor, and to protect it, I would not undeceive you.Had my brother been convicted, the established guilt would havetarnished forever our only legacy, all that father left to Bertieand to me--his spotless name."

"You are quibbling. Did you shield the family name by enduring thepurgatory of seeing your own on the list of penitentiary convicts?You deliberately fastened the odium of the crime upon your father'sdaughter; and you knew, you understood perfectly, that bystrengthening my erroneous supposition, you were lashing me to apursuit of the person, whom you could have best protected by franklytelling me all. If he is really your brother, what did you expect toaccomplish by fostering my belief that he was your lover?"

"Mr. Dunbar, spare me this inquisition. Release me from the rack ofsuspense. Tell me why you set this snare, baited with Bertie'sname?"

"I must first end my own suspense. If you wish to find the man, youtell me is your brother, I will aid you only when you have baredyour heart to me. You had some powerful incentive unrevealed. I willknow exactly, why you made me suffer all these years, the pangs of adevouring jealousy, keener than a vulture's talons."

With crimson cheeks, and shy, averted eyes, she sat trembling;unconsciously locking and unlocking her fingers. Her head drooped,and the voice was a low flutter:

"If I had told you that the handkerchief was one I gave to mybrother, because he fancied the gay border, and that the pipebelonged to my dear father, and if you had known that for more thana year before I went to X---no tidings from that brother had reachedme, would you have kept my secret, when you saw my life laid in thescales held by the jury? Suppose they had condemned me to death? Iexpected that fate; but knowing the truth, would you have permittedthe execution of that sentence?"

"Certainly not; and you understand why I should never have allowedit."

"I knew that in such an emergency I could not trust you."

Five minutes passed, while he silently sought to unravel the web;and Beryl dared not meet his gaze.

"You had some stronger motive, else you would have confessed all,when I started to Dakota. Anxiety for your brother's safety wouldhave unsealed your lips. What actuated you then? I mean to knoweverything now."

"Miss Gordon was my friend. She showed me kindness which I couldnever forget."

"Miss Gordon is a very noble woman, kinder to all the world than toherself; but did gratitude to her involve sacrifice of me?"

"You were betrothed. I owed it to her, to keep you loyal to yourvows, as far as my power extended. I tried faithfully to guard herhappiness, while endeavoring to shield my brother."

"Knowing you had all my heart, you dared not let me learn that therival existed only in my imagination? loyal soul! Did you deem it akindness to aid in binding her to an unloving husband? Her womanlyinstincts saved her from that death in life; and years ago, she setus both free. She wears no willows, let me tell you; and those whoshould know best, think that before very long she will sail forEurope as wife of Governor Glenbeigh, the newly appointed ministerto Z---, a brilliant position, which she will nobly grace. She willbe happier as Glenbeigh's wife than I could possibly have made her;for he loves her as she deserves to be loved. So, for Miss Gordon'ssake, you immolated me?"

Only the pathetic piping of the lonely bird made answer.

Like the premonitory thrill that creeps through forest leaves,before the coming burst of a tempest, he seemed to tremble slightly;his tone had a rising ring, and a dark flush stained his swarthyface, deepened the color in his brilliant eyes.

"Oh, my white rose! A wonderful fragrance of hope steals into theair; a light breaks upon my dreary world that makes me giddy! Can itbe possible that you--"

He paused, and she covered her face with her hands.

"Beryl, you are the only woman I have ever loved. You came suddenlyinto my life, as an irresistible incarnation of some fatefulwitchery that stole and fired my heart, subverted all my plans, madehavoc of lifelong hopes, dominated my will, changed my nature;overturned the cool selfishness on the altar of my worship, and setup your own image in a temple, swept, garnished, and sanctifiedforever by your in-dwelling. You have cost me stinging humiliation,years of regret, of bitter disappointment; and the ceaselesslygnawing pain of a jealous dread that despite my vigilance, anotherman might some day possess you. I have money, influence,professional success, gratified ambition, and enviable socialeminence; I have all but that which a man wants most, the one womanin the great wide world whom he loves truly, loves better than heloves himself; and who holds his heart in the hollow of her hand. Iwant my beautiful, proud, pure, stately white rose. I want my Beryl.I will have my own."

He had risen, stood before her; took the hands that veiled hercountenance, and drew her to her feet.

"You have been loyal to parents, to brother, to friends, to duty; beloyal now to your own heart; answer me truly. What did you mean whenyou once said, with a mournful pathos I cannot forget: 'We love notalways whom we should, or would, were choice permitted us?' Youdefied me that day, and prayed God to bless your lover; taunted mewith words that have made days dreary, nights hideous: 'To whom Ihave given my whole deep heart, you shall never know.' Did you mean--ah--will you tell me now?"

She bent her head till it almost touched him, but no answer came.

"You will not? I swear you shall; else I shall hope, believe, knowbeyond all doubt, that during these years, I have not been the onlysufferer; and that loyal as was your soul, your rebel heart is astruly mine, as all my deathless love is surely yours."

She tried to withdraw her hands; but his hold tightened, andinfinite exultation rang in his voice.

"My darling! My darling--you dare not deny it? I shall wear my whiterose to make all the future sweet with a blessed love; but have youno word of assurance for my hungry ears? Is my darling too proud?"

He raised her hands, laid her arms around his neck, and folded veryclose to his heart, the long coveted prize.

"My Beryl, it was a stubborn battle, but Lennox Dunbar claims hisown; and will hold her safe forever. Will you be loyal to yourtyrant?"

Was it a white or a crimson rose that hid its lovely petals againsthis shoulder, and whispered with lips that his kiss had rouged:

"Have I ever been allowed a choice? Was I not foredoomed to bealways at the mercy of Tiberius?"

The little garden was growing dusky, the gilded mist waving itsspectral banners over the thundering cataract, had whitened as thesun went down behind the wooded crest that barred the western skyline; and the shimmering gold on the heaving, whirling current ofthe Rapids faded to leaden tints, flecked with foam, as like amaddened suitor, parted by Goat Island from its beloved, it rushedto plunge into the abyss, where the silvery bridal veil shook hersignal, and all the roaring gorge filled with purple gloom.

Mr. Dunbar drew his companion's hand under his arm, and led hertoward the Clifton House.

"You and I have done with shadows. On the heights yonder, the sunstill shines. Up there waits one, who will tell you that which herefuses to divulge to any one else. Ten days ago my agents notifiedme that a man was searching for Mrs. Brentano and her daughter Berylin New York; and that he had gone to X---, where he spent severaldays in consultation with the Catholic priest. Singleton sent me atelegram, and I reached X---in time to accompany the stranger backto New York. To me he admits only, that he lives in Montreal; and isthe bearer of a message, the import of which, sacred promisesprevent him from revealing to any one but Miss Brentano. He is anelderly man, and so wary, no amount of dexterity can circumvent hiscaution. Very complex and inexplicable motives brought me here;chiefly the longing to see you, to learn your retreat, your mode ofexistence; and also the intention to exact one condition, before Imade it possible for you to find the object of your search. When youhad given me your promise not to marry him, it was my purpose toallow you one final meeting; and if you forfeited your compact, thedungeon and the gallows awaited him. Love makes women martyrs; theyare the apostles of the gospel of altruism. Love revives in men ofmy stamp, the primeval and undifferentiated tiger. When I think ofall that you have endured, of how nearly I lost you, my snowdrop, doyou wonder I shall hasten to set you in the garden of my heart, andshelter your dear head from every chill wind of adversity?"

They had passed through a gate, crossed a lawn, and reached a long,steep flight of steps leading straight up the face of a cliff, tothe grounds attached to a villa. With her hand clasped tightly inhis, Mr. Dunbar and Beryl slowly mounted the abrupt stairway, andwhen they gained the elevated terrace, a man who was walking up anddown the sward, came quickly forward.

Pressing her fingers tenderly, Mr. Dunbar released her hand.

"When your interview is ended, come to me yonder at the side gate,where I have a carriage to take you over the bridge. Father Beckx,this is Miss Brentano. I leave her in your care."

The sun was sending his last level shafts of light from the edge ofthe sky, when a man dressed in long black vestments, a raven-haired,raven-eyed, thin lipped and clean shaven personage, with a placidcountenance as coldly irresponsive as a stone mask, sat down on thetop step of the long stairs, beside the woman in gray, whose eagerwhite face was turned to meet his, in breathless and muteexpectancy.

The lingering twilight held at bay slowly marching night; the sunsetglory streamed up almost to the zenith in bands of amethyst andfaint opaline green, like the far reaching plumes of an archangel'spinions beating the still, crystal air. Later, the vivid orange ofthe afterglow burned with a transient splendor, as the dying smileof a day that had gone to its eternal grave; and all the West wasone vast evening primrose of palest gold sprinkled with star dust,when Beryl went slowly to join the figure pacing restlessly in frontof the gate.

Across the grassy lawn he came to meet her. In mute surrender shelifted her arms, laid her proud head, with its bared wealth ofburnished bronze hair, down on his shoulder, and wept passionately.

When he had placed her in the carriage, and held her close to hisheart, with his dark cheek resting on hers, where tears stilltrickled, he whispered:

"How much are you willing to tell me?"

"Only that I must start at once on a long, lonely journey to adesolate retreat, in mountain solitudes; far away in the wildernessof the Northwest. Bertie is there; and I must see him once more."

"How soon do you wish to start?"

"Within the next three days."

"You must wait one week. I cannot go before that time."

"You--?"

"Do you suppose I shall allow you to travel there without me? Do youimagine I shall ever lose sight of you, till the vows are utteredthat make you my wife? You cannot see your brother's face, until youhave first looked into your husband's. In one week I can arrange togo, to the ends of the earth if you will; but you will meet yourbrother only when you are Beryl Dunbar."

"No--no! You forget, ah!--You forget. I have worn the penitentiaryhomespun, and the brand of the convict seared my fair name, scarredall my life. The wounds will heal, but time can never efface thehard lines of the cicatrice; and I could not bear to mar the lustreof your honored name by--"

"Hush!--hush. It is ungenerous in you to wound me so sorely. When Iremember the fiery furnace through which my wife walked unscorched,with such sublime and patient heroism, is it possible that I shouldforget whose rash hand, whose besotted idiocy consigned her to theawful ordeal? Out of the black shadow where I thrust you, sprang thehalo that glorifies you. How often, in the silence of my sleeplessnights, have I heard the echo of your wild, despairing cry: 'Youhave ruined my life!' Oh, my darling! If you withhold yourself, ifyou cast me away, you will indeed ruin mine. If you could realizehow I wince at the recollection of your suffering, you would notcruelly remind me of my own accursed work."

"If the soul of my brother be ransomed thereby, I shall thank you,even for all that X---cost me. The world knows now, that nosuspicion clings to me; but, Mr. Dunbar, the disgrace blots foreverthe dear name I tried to shield; and my vindication only blackensBertie."

"The world will never know. Your sad secret shall be kept, and myname shall wrap you in ermine, and my love make your future redeemthe past. Having found my darling, can I afford to run the risk oflosing her? You belong to me, and I will not trust you out of mysight, until the law gives me a husband's claim. The mother of oneof my oldest friends is boarding here in Niagara. I will commit youto her care until to-morrow; then some church will furnish an altarwhere you shall pledge me your loyalty."

"Impossible! To-night a train will take me to Buffalo, where I cancatch the express going West. There are reasons why I must make nodelay; must hasten back to explain many things to the Matron of theSisterhood, where I have dwelt so safely and so peacefully since Ileft X---."

"Mr. Dunbar, I wear the uniform of a celibate Order of Gray Sisters;and the matron trusted me in an unusual degree, when she consentedthat I should undertake this journey on a secret mission. I came toNiagara, as I supposed, to keep an appointment with my brother, andI met you. If I lingered one instant here, it might reflect somediscredit upon this dear gray garb, which all hold soirreproachable. Sister Ruth trusted me. I cannot, I will not, evenin the smallest iota, appear to betray her confidence; and I must goat once, and go as I came--alone. Bid the driver take me to therailway station, and you must remain in the carriage. I can have noescort. Your presence would subject me to criticism, and I willguard the 'gray' that so mercifully guarded me."

"Beryl, are you trying to elude me?"

"I am faithfully trying to keep my compact with Sister Ruth. Here isa card bearing the exact address of the 'Anchorage'. I am goingthere as quickly as possible, to make speedy arrangements for mylong journey West, to that place almost within sound of the PacificOcean."

"Put your hand in mine. Promise me before God, that you will notvanish from me; that you will not leave the 'Anchorage' until I comeand see you there."

"I promise; but time presses. I must hasten to find Bertie."

"Do you know exactly where to go?"

"Yes. I have minute directions written down."

"Wait until I come. I trust you to keep your promise. Ah! after to-day, I could not bear to lose my 'Rosa Alba.' God make me moreworthy of my loyal and beautiful darling. After all, not Alcestis,but Antigone!"

CHAPTER XXXV.

White and still, lay the world of the far Northwest, wrapped inpeace as profound as that which reigned in primeval ages; whenancestral Nahuas, dragging their sleds across frozen BehringStraits, or cast amid other drift of the Japanese current upon thestrange new Pacific shore, climbed the mountains, and fell on theirfaces before the sun, whose worshippers have sacrificed in allhemispheres.

If civilization be the analogue of geologic accretion, how tortuousis the trend and dip of the ethnological strata, how abrupt theoverlapping of myths. How many aeons divided the totem coyote fromthe she-wolf of Romulus and Remus? Which is the primitive and parentflame, the sacred fire of Pueblo Estufas, of Greek Prytaneum, ofRoman Vesta, of Persian Atish-khudahs? If the Laurentian system bethe oldest upheaval of land, and its "dawn animal" the firstevolution of life that left fossil footprints, where are all themissing links in ethnology, which would save science that rejectsGenesis--the paradox of peopling the oldest known continent byimmigration from those incalculably younger?

Winter had lagged, loath to set his snow shoes upon the lingering,diaphanous train of Indian Summer, but December was inexorable, andthe livery of ice glittered everywhere in the mid-day sun.

Along a well-worn bridle trail, now slippery as glass, windingaround the base of crags, through narrow gorges that almostoverarched, leaving a mere skylight of intense blue to mark the way,moved a party of four persons in single file, slowly ascending asteep spiral. In advance, mounted on a black pony, was a cowledmonk, whose long, thin profile suggested that of Savonarola; andjust behind him rode a Canadian half-breed guide, with the copperishred of aboriginal America on his high cheek bones, and the warm glowof sunny France in his keen black eyes. Guiding his horse with theleft hand, his right led the dappled mustang belonging to the thirdfigure; a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing an overcoat thatreached to his knees, who walked with his hand on the bridle bit ofa white mule, whereon sat a woman, wrapped in silver fox furs fromthroat to feet. A cap or hood of the same soft, warm material wasworn over her head, where a roll of dark auburn hair coiled at theback; and around her white temples clustered rings and tendrils ofthe glossy bronze locks that contrasted so singularly with the blackarch of the brows, and the fringe that darkened the luminous grayeyes.

One month had elapsed since the Umilta Sisters of the "Anchorage",following Sister Ruth, walked in the star-lit dawn of a Novemberday, to a neighboring church, and watched Doctor Grantlin lead downthe aisle, a pale, trembling woman whose hand he placed in that ofthe man, waiting in front of the altar. The Sisterhood had listenedto the solemn words of the marriage service, the interchange ofvows, and the benediction, while priestly hands were laid tapon twobowed heads.

When the rising sun greeted the husband and wife, they were speedingwestward, on the first stage of their long journey.

To-day, the quest would end; and into Beryl's face had crept thewistful yearning that was a reflection of that strange blending ofpatience and longing, which made her so beautiful in her husband'seyes; so strong in faith, so serene in waiting resignation. Suddenlythe monk drew rein, threw up his drooping head, and listened. Clearand sweet as the silvery chime of bells ringing in happy dreams,floated through the crystal air the sound of the Angelus; andfainter and fainter fell the echoes, dying in immeasurable distance.Low bent the shaven head, and through brown, fingers stole theconsecrated beads, while with closed eyes the prayers were uttered;